


SHB

by corkhighway



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Giant/Tiny, M/M, Size Difference, Unbirthing, vergil has a pussy, vergil is also a bit of a vengeful bitch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:42:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22822747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corkhighway/pseuds/corkhighway
Summary: At the summit of the Qliphoth, Vergil came face-to-face with his son for the first time. Before Vergil plunged into hell, Nero left him with two things: A grudging sense of respect for the power the boy wielded...and something a little darker, a seed planted within that wrapped its winding tendrils around him and made one simple, quiet demand.Nero should have been more careful. Vergil isn't one to accept defeat.
Relationships: Vergil/Nero (Devil May Cry)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 77





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ngl I don't know the real name of a lotta these kinks so some of those tags are just me being cautious. Mind that noncon tho

The spell, though expensive, had been well worth it.

His son was difficult to catch off-guard, as well, but Vergil had never shied away from the difficult tasks. Nero was loud, aggressive, and ever-ready to prove himself in a fight: In the end, all it took was a few carefully-phrased provocations and he would've chased Vergil to the ends of the earth.

Vergil didn't need to get him that far, though. He only needed to get him out of Dante's sight.

The battle was harder than anticipated. Nero had grown stronger since they'd last clashed, and though Vergil had never intended to face him head on, it required monumental effort to stay in control of himself. Every time Nero triggered with a blast of energy, Vergil felt his own demonic instincts rising to meet him. More than once he found himself on the edge of an unintentional trigger, forcing himself to back down and disengage. The goal was not to win.

The goal was to tire him out.

And tire him he did, until Nero was staggering off-balance each time he missed a lunging attack, until Red Queen's strokes were slow and wide, until even his phantom wings were flickering in and out and he couldn’t hold his trigger for more than a few seconds. The boy had never learned the merits of graceful acquiescence, and so he fought and fought until he was a raw, clumsy thing.

Even as ungainly as his style was in times like these, he was still a force to be reckoned with, all fiery eyes and bright, bared teeth. A predator’s visage hid behind his handsome features, slit pupils and fangs flashing just below the surface. Corded muscle wreathed his frame, padding him out in sharp angles and broad plates.

_Beautiful._

Something twisted within Vergil, a heavy ache pulsing deep inside him. 

_Soon,_ he soothed it. He could feel the tingling energy of the rune-card he’d stored the spell in against his skin, waiting hidden in his sleeve until just the right moment.

Vergil was patient, and Nero's descent into exhaustion was slow, steady. He waited until Nero's swings were so wide that the boy couldn't possibly change his course in time to stop him, and then he _pounced._

One hand deftly grabbed Red Queen's hilt just above Nero's hand, tugging Nero right up against him and twisting hard to wrench the blade from his grasp. As Nero stumbled, cursing him and reaching for his gun instead, Vergil's other hand came around and carefully, almost gently, placed the rune-card directly against the back of the boy's neck. His touch was soft, barely a brush: He didn’t know how long the spell would need to take effect, and he didn’t want to alarm Nero before it could get to work.

He needn’t have worried. The effect was immediate. 

Vergil felt the electricity crackling through Nero's body even with the scant space between them, the boy's eyes widening and his hands flying to his throat as he abandoned his gun. Vergil took the opportunity to seize the revolver, stepping back with both the boy’s weapons in hand. It never hurt to be too careful, after all.

Nero swore louder, palms slapping against the back of his neck. “What the _fuck,_ is this a goddamn joke? Don’t just-”

The spell’s first effect snapped into existence, heavy ropes of energy shooting out from the card and sinking into Nero’s flesh. Nero’s choked inhale was loud, pained.

Vergil did not blame him. He’d had his demonic power torn from him once before: It was never a pleasant feeling.

Nero's eyes went first to his weapons held away from him in Vergil’s hands, then to Vergil standing a few feet away and watching impassively, then down at his own body as his fingers scratched wildly against his neck. 

“You _bastard,_ ” he gasped, torn between fury and agony, betrayal and terrible helplessness. “You _bastard,_ you _fucker,_ you goddamn _piece_ of _fucking-_ ”

Vergil ignored him. The incarnate rage twisting Nero’s attractive features as he spat fire was alluring, yes, but so was his body, limbs uselessly seizing as he fought his fate.

A tug inside him now, clenching, beating, blood pulsing. _Soon. Not yet._

The boy's instincts didn't fail him: He seemed to sense on some innate, primal level that blood was needed to break spells such as these, and he tore at his skin, drawing as much out as he could in the place the rune-card had sunk into him.

On a lesser spell, it would have worked. Sparda's blood was a potent thing, even three-quarters diluted, and just like for many curses their enemies had thrown their way before, Nero could simply have willed himself to withstand it and succeeded.

But this was not a lesser spell, and Nero could do little more than tear and panic and struggle as the spell took effect and he

began

to

_shrink._

It was steady, not fast but not slow either, just steady. Vergil waited, watching, unblinking, until Nero disappeared completely beneath the crumpled empty heap of his jacket, shirt, and pants, the shell of clothing caving around him as he sunk further and further down.

Vergil waited a few more seconds, and after they passed with no discernable movement from the pile where Nero had once stood, he advanced. He threw aside the jeans, the shirts, the jacket, the boots hidden beneath, until he found his prize, _his son,_ lying naked on his back against the stone ground.

The secondary binding effect had kicked in, leaving Nero weak and pliant in his hands as he picked him up and gently stroked his hair, his face, his chest. He was pleased to find Nero still sturdy, still rigid structure beneath soft skin as a glacial stare fixed him from tiny ice-blue eyes. The end result was just as he could have hoped for, Nero measuring perhaps seven inches tall and surviving the transformation fully conscious. 

This spell was a particularly tricky one, and considering the many...issues, when human blood mixed with demon, he had not been certain of its effects. It was some ego-driven conjurer’s method of subduing demons that did not cooperate, meant to turn even the most powerful of beasts into mere toys. There had been a not-insignificant possibility that Nero wouldn’t be human enough to resist the spell’s binding effects, leaving nothing more than a paralyzed miniature.

As it were, he had just enough freedom left to twitch and jerk, and just enough vocal control to let out small, furious sounds. The spell had reduced him to utter helplessness. Spells such as these surfaced rarely nowadays and never for long, and Vergil had shelled out an inordinate sum for this one, knowing he may very well never get the chance for it again.

And _oh,_ it was worth it now, holding his son in his hands. He turned him over in his palm, caressing the strong column of his spine, the backs of his thighs, pushing his legs apart to glimpse the most intimate part of him. Nero made a noise of protest, low-pitched and angry, and... _confused._

Vergil felt an answering throb inside himself, warmth and wetness gathering between his legs. He could feel his own heartbeat pulsing there, arousal spiking within him. He clenched on emptiness, but the pain of being unfilled was all the sweeter for knowing that it would soon be relieved. 

Vergil looked at his son, helpless in his hands, beautifully sculpted, masterfully crafted, weak and gorgeous…

And the _perfect_ size.

His core clenched, demanding, needy.

_Yes,_ Vergil thought. _Now._

In his penthouse, Vergil took care to store Nero’s clothes and weapons in a safe deep in the closet of the guest room. For what he had planned, it was unlikely Nero would have the capability to sneak off and retrieve them, but there was no harm in security. Anticipation had him in its long, slender fingers: Now that his victory was assured, he took pleasure in riding the swell of the wave building inside of him.

Vergil climbed the stairs to the top floor of his home with leisurely ease, comforted by the weight of Nero in his coat pocket. In his own room, he dimmed the lights and strode to his favorite padded chair in the corner, stripping off his vest and belt and boots on the way. He kept his coat alone, for no reason other than he enjoyed its weight on his shoulders, and divested himself of his pants before settling naked in his chair. 

He pulled Nero from his pocket, plucking out his prize and once more delighting in the simple perfection of his son: Shrunk down to size, furious because of it, and all the more beautiful for both.

Nero struggled in his hand, Vergil’s grasp pinning his arms to his sides, but even without the extra restraint he would not have managed much. It was a wonder he could move even as much as that, really, and Vergil found himself quite enjoying the pitiful picture he made.

His cunt throbbed at the sight, eager, yearning. Vergil shifted, sitting back a little more comfortably, and watched Nero’s gaze wander as he took in his new surroundings. First at the ceiling, pupils shrinking as he recognized the dark blue tones of Vergil’s private penthouse, then down Vergil’s bare chest, eyes widening as he took in his nudity. Finally, he followed the line of Vergil’s arm all the way down to its end, all attempts to break free ceasing in pure shock as he watched Vergil slide pale, slender fingers down the outer lips of his pussy.

Vergil could not resist his mouth curling upwards, and he pressed down with two fingertips, spreading his lips apart and granting Nero a glimpse of the warm, wet folds within him.

One beat, Nero still frozen in his hand. Two beats. Three.

The boy snapped into action, jerking against Vergil’s hold, weak mockeries of what might have been screams torn from his throat. Vergil could feel his anger, his confusion, his _panic:_ Betrayal, disgust, and fear all warred within his son. Nero didn’t understand, didn’t want to believe, and so he fought, twisting and shaking and desperate to break free. 

_Mmm._ Heat pulsed in Vergil, the sweet siren song of triumph joining with the heady drum beat of arousal in his head. He was more than ready to dance to its tune.

“I won’t kill you,” Vergil murmured, a low whisper in the quiet air that reached his son even through the boy’s useless struggling. “You will survive this, Nero.”

And that was the only promise he would make. He saw no need to explain himself, and he could wait no longer.

Vergil kept himself spread open with one hand, gently tugging his lips further apart to expose his sensitive inner flesh. With the other hand he brought Nero down towards him, bracing the back of the boy's head with his thumb as he pressed Nero's face to his clit.

Heat rushed between his legs as he felt Nero against his pussy, the hard angles of his body against Vergil’s soft folds, the prickling of Nero’s cropped hair against his lower belly, the sharp planes of his nose and cheekbones brushing his clit. He felt himself swelling with blood, wetness trickling down his thighs in thin drops. So little, that gentle contact, and Vergil was already tempted to plunge him straight inside.

He pulled Nero back a little, taking in the drowsy, weak disgust painted on his features, along with the growing tremble of panic in his limbs. If he hadn't already realized exactly what Vergil intended for him, then he was realizing it now.

Vergil spared him nothing. He wouldn't kill the boy, and he'd already said as much. Any other words would be wasted: He would take these memories from Nero afterwards, steal back minutes and hours and leave only an empty slate in their place, so the boy’s life right now belonged to _Vergil._

Vergil released his lips, letting them fall closed and sliding his hand down to dip a few fingers inside himself instead. The pressure of slight penetration was addictive, as was the feeling of his own silky walls clenching around him, but he knew much better was to come. He drew them out after a moment, soaked in his sticky juices, the air heavy with the thick scent of his arousal.

One finger he pressed to Nero's face, smearing his lubricant against the boy's lips, his nose, his tongue. Nero's skin was left shiny in its wake, the boy’s throat working as he attempted to either swallow or gag and failed at both. Another finger rubbed against Nero's cock, applying constant and steady pressure to spread his essence on it and coax it to hardness.

Nero struggled, vainly, as Vergil brought him closer and guided the boy's hips to rut against his clit. The hot, lancing spikes of electricity had Vergil sighing and clenching inside, gently raising his own hips to meet Nero. With the boy's upper body resting against his mound, Vergil could see Nero's eyes squeeze shut as he fought against his biology. 

It was a losing battle. Warm, sex-scented flesh could wreak havoc on even the greatest of self-control, and to Nero's young quarter-devil body, a cunt was a cunt. It sensed the nearness of a slick hole ripe for filling and responded accordingly: Soon, Nero was humping his clit without Vergil's hand guiding him, his cock sliding against the little bud of nerves and lighting Vergil up with every thrust.

The sensation was delicious, better than Vergil could've ever imagined. He felt slick sluicing down his thighs in thick rivulets now, his heartbeat pulsing heavy in his inner walls and his hips bucking to meet Nero from where the boy was still pressed firmly against his clit. He could cum like this, Vergil realized, from using his son as little more than a common vibrator.

The thought was sorely tempting...but the need to be filled beckoned more, hollow emptiness between his legs demanding its due. He'd never needed a cock in him more than he did right now, and though Nero's newly smaller body wasn't quite the right shape, he was the _perfect_ size.

He pulled Nero away from his clit, ignoring the boy's soft little moan of protest and his own answering need. He was soaked enough now that he'd be able to take nearly anything without prep, but he still gathered the juices running down his thighs in his fingers, coating Nero head to toe in the sticky, cloyingly sweet-smelling stuff. 

The boy merely blinked up at Vergil as he thoroughly lubricated him, likely too caught up in the double rush of heady arousal and the weakness caused by his bonds to think about where this would end. He would realize soon enough, but it was too late: It had been too late since the moment Vergil sensed an odd feeling stirring in his loins when he looked at his son and named it _lust._

Vergil sat back further in his chair, inching his thighs wider and reaching between them to spread his lips once more. In his other hand, he lowered Nero and manoeuvred him until he was angled head-first, Vergil's grip keeping his arms pinned to his sides. Vergil’s thumb came up to brace the back of the boy’s head, brushing against the place on his neck where he’d caught him with the spell: He had to keep Nero’s posture rigid for the first penetration, or else he wouldn’t fit properly.

Nero was wise to his fate now. The tremors in the boy's body redoubled once more, Nero shaking in his hand as he let out the weak panting and low single-note noises of protest that were all his bound body could muster. Vergil could feel his insides throbbing in response, his muscles clenching and relaxing already in anticipation of what was to come. 

He brought Nero closer, closer, _closer,_ until he could feel the boy’s head pressing against the soaked and swollen flesh of his opening. Vergil couldn't help teasing himself, dipping him a little inside just to pull back and rub Nero's face against the lips of his pussy. _God,_ he really had picked the perfect size for this, hadn't he. Nero was almost the same proportions as one of his toys, but the knowledge that it was his son and not mere silicon was what made him ache so sweetly inside.

When he finally took Nero into himself, his walls opened up and accepted him with a spray of juices, liquid squirting out around Nero’s body from the force of his arousal. He plunged Nero in as far as he could while still keeping hold of him, fingers clamped around the boy's hips and legs to hold him steady as his inner muscles undulated in waves trying to suck him in further. When he pulled him back, it was with an obscenely lewd squelching sound, his cunt clinging tight. The friction on the way out was just as good as the pressure on the way in, and Vergil let his eyes flutter shut for a moment, simply basking in the sinful heaven of it all.

Nero might have been trying to speak, might have been wriggling and squirming in his hand in another pathetically futile attempt to break free, but Vergil had never been further from caring. Every nerve in his body sang as he sunk Nero right back into himself, testing his limits to see how far he could push him inside without letting go, before tugging him out and doing it all over again. In and out, in and out, until he threw his head back in his chair and bucked his hips upward, letting loose breathy cries as he used Nero to fuck himself with wild abandon. His son was nothing more than an accomplice: No, Nero was nothing more than a _toy,_ wielded by Vergil's hands for his own pleasure, a living dildo that writhed and fought its fate to plunge ever deeper right back inside of him.

And it _was_ Nero inside of him, his son, his magnificent creation, all barely leashed power and wildfire temper and beautiful body. His son, who thought to conquer _him,_ thought to make _him_ submit, now reduced to nothing more than a useful tool to satisfy the basest of his urges.

_God._ He'd keep him like this forever, if he could. Nero, covered in his slick juices, the bound length of him a mockery of a shaft, pounding in and out of Vergil's soaked cunt like a cock, like a thick, fat-

_closer, closer_

No, Nero felt even _better_ than a cock, with the full size of him stretching Vergil's opening every time he sucked him back in. A dildo, sculpted just for him, the perfect pleasure toy-

_clenching tighter, tighter_

This was his _son_ inside of him, _Nero,_ the boy who'd made him ache so, so deep inside the first time he'd seen him face to face. The boy who'd fought him on top of the Qliphoth, spitting curses and demanding his acknowledgement while Vergil's pussy had been dripping so much in its need that it had soaked through his pants. The boy who’d awoken Vergil’s most primal urges, made him horny, made him desperate, for the first time since he could remember. Vergil had sworn he’d make Nero breed him for days in payment for all the hell he’d put him through, and for all the nights he’d fucked himself to shuddering completion with Nero on his mind, for all the times he’d cum with Nero’s name in his mouth, but all those nights were forgotten because Nero _belonged to him now-_

_YES_

"N _-Nero!”_

His son’s name was torn out of him as Vergil came like he was being ripped apart, clamping down on Nero so hard that his slick hand couldn't pull him back out again. He rode out the waves, leaving Nero to his fate inside his greedily clenching cunt as he instead gripped the armrests of his chairs until they snapped into tinder. His whole body shook as his hips jerked and his core seized, his vision going wholly dark except for tiny pinpricks of light.

When he finally returned to his body, opening eyes he hadn't realized he'd shut, it felt like _years_ had passed. It couldn’t have been more than a few moments, perhaps a minute or so at most, but Vergil was trapped in the kind of timeless hazy mindset that only followed the most mind-shattering of orgasms.

His thighs were sticky, his natural lubricant completely covering his legs, the chair, and a good part of the floor beneath him. With the warmth of arousal slowly leaving him, he realized that it was slightly chilly in the room, and he was sitting in nothing more than his coat. 

He made to reach for it to draw it closer around himself, then stopped when he realized the messy state of his hands. His coat had avoided much of the spread between his legs, bunched up behind him against the back of the chair, but the wet scent of sex would cling to it for ages. With the haze of desire no longer clouding his mind, he was loathe to damage it any further. 

He shifted his position in the chair to something more comfortable, felt something digging into his inner walls at an angle, and abruptly realized that Nero was still inside of him. Looking down, he couldn't see anything of the boy left between his legs: He must have pulled him all the way in, sometime during the throes of his climax.

Even now, the steady, thrumming aftershocks were pulsing through him, his insides gently massaging their prize almost as if his body was trying to show its gratitude. He doubted Nero would appreciate the sentiment, but it was a pleasant sensation for Vergil nonetheless.

He let himself enjoy it, simply laying back and basking in the afterglow. This had been a victory for him, in every way a resounding triumph, his errant and beautiful son conquered and put squarely in his place. Reality was so much greater than fantasy had ever been, and Vergil idly wondered how the hell he’d managed to make it this long without taking Nero between his legs. Any longer without an offering to the aching need inside of him and this could have gone very differently. Perhaps in another world, this had ended with Vergil on his knees in front of Nero, the would-be demon king begging desperately for his son’s cock.

But it hadn’t come to that. He had succeeded, taken his due, and now all that was left to do was clean up.

The pleasant warmth of his afterglow faded, at that thought. He did have much left to do, if he wanted to preserve the fragile alliance between him, Nero, and his brother. Tracks would have to be covered, alibis would have to be put in place, forgetfulness charms would have to be leveraged. Vergil was reluctant to give up the comfort of being filled, but the time had passed now. He had work to do, and for that, the boy had to come out.

With a regretful sigh, Vergil reached down and explored himself with careful fingers, his mouth curling down at the distinct unpleasantness of pressure against oversensitive flesh. After a moment of gently prodding around, his fingers hooked on a limb, likely Nero's leg: After another moment, he found the other leg, and using those he gently coaxed the boy free of his cunt's tight, possessive grasp.

It was a long, slow slide, drawing Nero out of himself, every sharp angle of his frame and solid bulge of muscle on his body brushing past Vergil’s oversensitive outer lips on its way out. The boy was practically drowned in cum and slick, Vergil’s fingers slipping and losing their hold on him multiple times during the process.

When he finally tugged him free, he dropped Nero into the chair between his legs, the boy flopping limply stomach-down against the cushion with an audibly wet smack. After a few seconds and no visible response from Nero, a seed of concern planted itself inside Vergil. He didn't care how the boy felt about being used: The forgetfulness charms in his office would take care of that, in one way or the other. However, no reaction at all was extremely out of character. Even bound and weakened, the Nero he knew would be shouting his head off.

Another few seconds, and still no movement.

Vergil nudged him with a fingertip, not bothering to be gentle, and when even that garnered nothing, he flipped the boy over. Nero's head lolled around on his neck as he was moved, and with his eyes shut tight and the slow rise and fall of his chest, Vergil realized that the boy was out cold.

It was no mystery what could have done him in. His healing factor and demonic resilience kept him alive, of course, but the conditions inside Vergil’s body weren’t exactly conducive to human survival. Suffocation, pressure, the excess of sexual fluids...Vergil hadn’t bothered giving him time to breathe.

He was gorgeous like this, though, his skin slick and shiny with the aftermath of Vergil's orgasm. His flushed cock lay soft and spent against the toned muscles of his lower belly, looking divinely appetizing. Sometime before the lack of oxygen or the heat or the sheer ordeal of what he was being put through had gotten to Nero, the boy had cum his brains out.

_I see._ Vergil hadn't necessarily known Nero would get off on what he was doing to him. He hadn't particularly cared, either, but it was interesting to see the similarities carried by blood. Dante was much the same way, his little brother capable of blowing his load even in the most hellish of situations. 

Taking in Nero's limp, well-used body beneath him, Vergil considered the work he had left to do. He had to prepare his forgetfulness charms, one for Nero and one in reserve for Dante, and the evidence of the rune-card on Nero's neck had to be removed. Cleanup would be the biggest issue, both for him and Nero: They were equally covered in the heavy scent of Vergil's arousal. Dante, ever nosy when it came to fights, would soon be seeking them out to determine the results of theirs. After finding no trace of them at the abandoned city that was their battlegrounds, the first place he'd check would be Vergil's residence.

Of course Vergil had an alibi ready for Nero's inevitably missing memories. It would just be a hassle to be caught off-guard.

His fingers brushed against Nero's hair, soaked and sticking up in all bizarre ways. The boy's lips were soft, his skin smelling sweetly of sex, and seeing his pliant, naked form covered in Vergil's essence pleased some innate, possessive part of him. He truly was magnificent, Vergil’s son, a prize hard-won and well-earned. 

If Vergil could do as he pleased, Nero would live out the rest of his life like this, a toy kept in Vergil’s office and brought out only to be admired or brutally, filthily used. Vergil felt himself clenching at the thought, new heat rushing downwards as he imagined keeping Nero in his desk-side drawer with all of his other toys, taking him out to pleasure himself with after coming home from a job, negotiating demonic artefact trades with Nero wedged securely inside of him...

...He _really_ should get to cleaning. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some extra kinky stuff I was kinda holding back on, but I'm really feelin' it, so...yeah

Vergil had lost track of time while he pleasured himself with Nero, and Dante could be headed this way even now. He wanted a chance to explain the ‘lost memories’ to Nero first, so that when Dante came, Nero would back him up on his lies.

Vergil fondled his son a little more, pressing a fingertip against his cock. The boy’s current size wasn’t doing him any favors, but judging by the proportions, it would be quite lovely when he returned to normal. Sleep charms were by far the easiest to come by: Vergil considered keeping a few around, so he could do what he used to do with Dante and stop by Devil May Cry for a little midnight snack.

_ Mmm. _ The thought was settling in his lower belly, and Vergil felt his sated flesh swelling with fresh blood. He wasn’t surprised that he could be aroused again so soon. His stamina had never disappointed.

Vergil clenched around nothingness, feeling a familiar empty ache. Upsetting, that it too had returned so soon, but he supposed that was to be expected. His son was still near, and he knew now just how well Nero’s body fit inside his own.

_...Hmm. _

Dante had left on a job that morning: With a long travel, it was possible that it would take him the rest of the day. It would take him time, too, to come looking for them if he returned late. 

And the spell would last for hours yet. He’d gotten what he wanted out of it, but for such a rarity, and such a high price tag, it would be a shame to cut its duration short. 

Vergil looked down at his son’s sleeping form, taking in the strong line of his jaw, the short crop of his hair, the well-balanced proportions of his frame. 

Nero truly was his most magnificent creation. It was only fair that Vergil reaped the benefits of his own work, after all.

It was an easy decision to make.

Vergil began with Nero's head once more, pressing the boy’s face against his clit. Without Nero being conscious to resist him, it was easy to push his finger against Nero's jaw and wedge his mouth open so Vergil could enjoy the soft brush of his tongue. It was quite pleasant, even with Nero's reduced size: Perhaps when his vendor restocked lust spells again, he could charm Nero into being addicted to the taste of his pussy, capable of nothing else but servicing him with his tongue for hours on end.

Vergil shelved the idea, for another time. When he grew impatient of little licks, he angled Nero downward and buried him head-first within his folds once more, slowly guiding him further within. His walls eagerly accepted the boy's return, clinging to him in waves, clamping down and tugging. Fresh slick washed over Nero’s bare skin, giving him a new shiny coat over the old drying one. 

This time, instead of thrusting Nero into him like a toy, Vergil let go, allowing his inner muscles to undulate and pull his son deeper into his body. He’d liked those few moments he had right after his climax, with Nero buried snuggly in his guts, and he was curious to see how far inside him he could pull the boy.

Vergil hooked his thighs up against the wreckage of the armrests, sinking further back in his chair and focusing his attention on his inner muscles. He could look down his own body and almost imagine where Nero was inside of him, tracking his son’s progress deeper in.

Every staggered wave of pressure was delicious, every inch further Nero sank into him a new delight. Every time he clamped down and felt the resistance of Nero's body inside of him, arousal gathered between his thighs, the lips of his pussy growing flushed and wet once more.

It was a slow and steady process, Vergil rubbing himself in wide, lazy circles as he proceeded at an unhurried pace. It took him by surprise to feel a slight, foreign fluttering within, something shifting that wasn’t his own walls.

_ Nero, waking? _ It was an odd time, when he’d remained unconscious throughout his short period of freedom. Nevertheless, something dark in Vergil shuddered at the thought, liking it.

Sure enough, a moment later, Vergil felt the beginnings of weak, panicked thrashing against his insides as Nero woke to a prison of wetness and suffocation and sex. The boy had to be terrified to find himself still trapped in this hell: As far as Nero knew, he had never escaped it.

_ Oh, yes... _ The thought of Nero never escaping appealed very much to that dark side of Vergil, unrealistic though it was. He’d have to let the boy out sooner or later, if only to avoid the messy consequences of the spell wearing off with Nero still inside of him.

A gasp was torn from Vergil’s throat as Nero’s frantic movements only served to push him ever deeper: Vergil found once more that the boy’s pathetic attempts at resistance were an unbearable turn on, slick gushing out of him as his son battled against the unrelenting power of his insides. It was almost like Vergil was conquering him anew. Heat rose heavy in him once more, and his clit flushed red and demanded his attention with little pulsing spikes of need.

Vergil leaned back against his chair so he could shift his hips forward and slide a hand down to finger himself.  _ God _ , this was perfection: He'd love nothing more than to spend the rest of the day getting himself off to the feeling of Nero helplessly struggling inside of him. He could bring himself to climax again and again, and Nero would  _ feel _ it, would know he was being used and every attempt he made to fight back would only make it better for Vergil.

He added another finger when Nero tried to stretch out, teased his clit when the echoes of phantom fists pushed at him, let out a breathy exhale when Nero squirmed and writhed. Vergil could feel another orgasm building in him, and he reveled in the knowledge that Nero would be held captive within him when he crested.

But alas, it was not to be.

"Verge? You here?"

Dante’s voice startled him into wariness, his thighs snapping shut as he lowered his legs back down and sat up straight in his chair. The movement must have crushed Nero somewhere deep within his cunt, because the boy stopped fighting back for a moment.

Dante’s voice had come from the lower levels of his penthouse. It seemed Vergil’s hopes of Dante getting a long-distance job today were not to be met: If Dante was here, he’d already checked the abandoned city, and Vergil could not send him that way to stall him. He could not suppress a disappointed grimace, annoyed that his fun was to end so quickly. He moved to pull his fingers out from himself, mind going to the charms in his office next door.

Then he stopped, a thought occurring to him. Dante was no fool, and he was sickeningly fond of Nero: Finding the boy missing, he'd suspect Vergil first and foremost. However, Dante was also no saint, and Vergil was well-familiar with all the ways Dante could be... _ misled. _

"Verge?" Dante’s voice was closer now, on the second landing. He gave Vergil his space nowadays, keeping away from his office on the top floor unless specifically invited, but concern for Nero would likely be enough to overpower his usual habits.

Vergil sat back in his chair, turning in it so it faced the door. He kicked one long, slender leg up over the wreckage of an armrest, working his fingers back into himself, lewdly spreading his natural lubricant around so the open lips of his pussy gleamed with inviting wetness. He could still feel Nero nestled deep within him: Was the boy far enough in that Dante wouldn’t feel him? 

There was a chance that Dante would discover his duplicity, would sense that something was off, but Vergil already had the secondary forgetfulness charm ready. Any issues, and he could duck into his office and set all to rights.

_ And besides, _ Vergil thought, kicking his other leg up over the destroyed armrest, his thighs now spread far to present his soaked, needy pussy to the open air. Dante had let slip, once, that such a display was his favorite view, and Vergil had used it ruthlessly to his own advantage ever since.  _ Dante is ever so reliable. _

With Dante fucking him, Nero would be trapped inside Vergil for hours more, stuck sharing a cunt with Dante's cock as Dante bred Vergil like a good little brother. He’d be drowned in Dante’s cum, thick semen mixing with Vergil’s juices to coat his son in their combined essence. Nero would be helpless to stop it, trapped and abused, subject to both Vergil’s and his uncle’s desire. _ _ Dante wouldn’t know that it was Nero he was coating with his seed, wouldn’t know that it was his precious nephew he was helping keep captive inside Vergil, forcing the boy to endure pure, filthy hell. 

Arousal pulsed hot and heavy through Vergil, his body in emphatic agreement.  _ Yes, _ he would use his brother to further torment his son. Two fierce devils, two gorgeous creatures, two beautiful men, slaves to  _ him. _

“Vergil? Have you seen Nero?” Closer now, just outside the door. Vergil had been correct: Dante’s worry for his nephew had been enough to overpower any qualms he had about facing Vergil in his own territory.

Well, Vergil would just have to help him put those fears to rest. "I'm here, Dante...Why don't you come in?"

  
  



End file.
